


With A Hammer

by averzierlia



Category: Sherlock (TV), Thor (2011)
Genre: M/M, Sentient!Mjolnir, Sparring, With A Hammer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-30
Updated: 2011-07-30
Packaged: 2017-10-22 00:10:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/231453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/averzierlia/pseuds/averzierlia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I, uh, picked it up. Without knowing what it was,” John stumbles over his words, because bloody buggering fuck, a sentient hammer meant for the hands of gods likes him. There is no way he sees this ending well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With A Hammer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [abbichicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abbichicken/gifts).



John sighs and shifts again, trying to concentrate on the report about Agardrian biology but unable to with the sharp edge of something digging into his back.

John makes an annoyed huff and reaches behind him and grabs the offending object, intending to place it on the floor, but freezes in shock when he registers what he is holding in his hand.

Mjolnir.

John carefully puts The Hammer, and Sherlock is rubbing off on him because John just thought in _capital letters_ , on the floor. He also, carefully, does not look at it, and ignores the strange feeling of disappointment he gets when he removes his hand from the handle.

“Sherlock,” John says, voice strangled. “Please tell me that I’m hallucinating.”

“Hallucinating what?” Sherlock asks, not looking up from where he is engrossed in a slide on his microscope.

John makes a vague noise, staring down at The Hammer helplessly as the feeling of disappointment that seems to be coming from it intensifies. Sherlock looks up, frowning, and John gestures at The Hammer.

“Thor is hardly ever without Mjolnir, it’s probably a fake,” Sherlock says dismissively, turning back to the slide.

“I’d feel better if you came over and picked it up all the same, if you wouldn’t mind,” John says, taking a deep breath to calm himself down.

Sherlock rolls his eyes and stalks over to where John is sitting, expression one of annoyance. He wraps his hand around the shaft of The Hammer and pulls. John lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding until he realizes that The Hammer hasn’t moved. John makes another strangled noise.

“John,” Sherlock says sharply, “are you telling me you can pick Mjolnir up?”

“No?” John says, but knows that it sounds like a question.

“Pick it up,” Sherlock demands, and John heaves a sigh and wraps his hand around The Hammer when Sherlock lets go.

There is an impression of immeasurable heaviness when he picks it up, like it could be hit the ground and it would dissolve under the pressure. And there is the sensation of contentment that travels up the handle and into his hand, a warm golden glow.

“We need to do a blood test,” Sherlock says, and the expression he has on his face is downright scary.

*

“Sherlock, no! You are not drawing any more blood you have _enough_ ,” John snaps, jerking his arm away. He is still (well not really _still_ because John had lost count of how many times Sherlock had made him put down The Hammer and pick it up again) holding Mjolnir. If only because it gave an impression of sulking whenever he put it down.

And of course, that’s when Thor walks in.

He frowns at John and John spends a few panicky moments planning out how to take down the God of Thunder but all Thor does is hold out his hand. John _feels_ the call, down in his bones, but Mjolnir doesn’t leave his hand until he loosens his fingers.

Thor’s frown intensifies.

“Call it back to you,” Sherlock instructs, watching this exchange with bright eyes.

John gapes at Sherlock and Thor lets out a growl, which seems to indicate that he wants an explanation.

“You’re completely human, and yet Mjolnir let you pick it up. And judging by the second and a half between when Thor called for it and it went, you had to let it go. So, call it,” Sherlock says, and he seems to think that this should double as an explanation for Thor. If John is any judge, it doesn’t.

“I, uh, picked it up. Without knowing what it was,” John stumbles over his words, because bloody buggering fuck, a sentient hammer meant for the hands of gods likes him. There is no way he sees this ending well.

“You may try to call Mjolnir if you wish,” Thor says, courteously, but it’s clear that he doesn’t think Mjolnir is going to leave him now that he’s got it again.

John glares darkly at Sherlock before holding out his left hand. He feels a bit ridiculous, to be honest.

“Are you calling it?” Sherlock asks with interest, and John shakes his head. Then suddenly he’s thinking of the potential heaviness of Mjolnir, the way it gives the impression it could suddenly be much heavier than it currently is at a moment’s notice. And in the next instant The Hammer rips itself from Thor’s hand and flies across the room, stopping to hover at John’s fingertips.

All three men look at it with wide eyes.

“Would you like to spar?” Thor inquires abruptly, and John automatically catches The Hammer when it starts to fall. He looks down at it, surprised, but the only thing it does is radiate a content smugness. He huffs and lays it on the table next to Sherlock.

“I’d love to,” John says, and they reach a silent agreement that now seems like an amazing time to go spar in the gym.

*

By the time they square off in the ring in the gym (which is basically a giant square marked off with duct tape) they have gathered a crowd and bets are being placed. Surprisingly, about half the crowd has money on John to win, which might have something to do with the way he managed to outshoot Hawkeye his first day on the base.

Then Thor throws the first punch and John forgets the crowd is there.

After about five minutes John knows three things.

1) Thor has not trained in hand to hand combat, and as a result overreaches and attacks like he’s holding his hammer.  
2) John is fucked sideways because Thor hits like a truck.  
3) John actually has a chance of winning.

He weaves and dodges more than anything else, avoiding Thor’s wild swings and leading him on a merry dance around the ring. He gets in hits when he can but Thor just shrugs them all off.

Then John decides to be reckless and tackle Thor, and things take a decidedly different turn.

*

To say that Sherlock is fascinated by the fight is like saying that he thinks crime scenes are interesting; technically true but woefully understated.

But it is fascinating.

John is holding his own quite well, considering he’s fighting against a god. Thor seems to be getting increasingly frustrated at John’s ability to avoid him, having been taught that ‘men’ squared off against each other and beat the other until one stopped moving.

He doesn’t register the crowd disappearing until several seconds after the fact.

He hears a soft, smug laugh behind him and whirls away from the fight to see…Loki. Sherlock manages to conceal his surprise, but only barely.

“Wouldn’t want them to see what happens now,” Loki says lazily, nodding his chin down at the men in the ring. Sherlock twists back around in time to see John tackle Thor.

Loki steps up behind him, pressing against his back and bracing his hands on the rail in front of Sherlock. Loki’s breath puffs hot against his neck as Loki laughs again, because it’s obvious to the trained eye that suddenly fighting is secondary in Thor and John’s minds.

“Your companion doesn’t get to indulge himself often,” Loki notes, running one hand lightly down the front of Sherlock’s slacks, and Sherlock is surprised to note that he’s hard. He can feel Loki’s erection pressing against his backside where they’re pressed together, and see that the fight below him as suddenly become a fight for dominance, the right to take the other.

John seems to be winning, surprisingly.

He takes that thought back in the next second, because Thor has John flipped over and pinned, grinding his hips down against John’s. John’s head is tipped back, his eyes closed, and he bucks his hips up to meet Thor’s, causing the god to groan.

Sherlock is ashamed to say that he hadn’t been paying much attention to what Loki was doing, and the cool hand that wrapped around his dick was a shock, causing him to moan.

Loki presses a wet kiss just below his hairline, fingers trailing frost as he sets a rhythm that matches the one between the two fighters. Sherlock finds himself breathing and moaning in time with John, and lets his head tip back to rest on Loki’s shoulder.

Below them, Thor snarls and goes rigid above John, John’s fingers scrambling for purchase against Thor’s shoulders, and Loki does some sort of twist with his fingers and Sherlock’s vision goes white.

Sherlock can feel Loki’s smirk against his shoulder as Loki untangles himself. He feels more than hears the Trickster’s next words. “Well aren’t the two of you interesting. I’ll have to keep an eye on you.”

And then Loki is gone, and Sherlock stumbles back to the lab, intending to get more work done. But all he does is think about the sight of John bucking under Thor and the feel of Loki’s hand on him.

**Author's Note:**

> Dudes, blame abbi ok?


End file.
